where the wild roses grow
by milk ghost
Summary: "So, you kidnapped me and want me to what? Rule the Underworld with you? Oh no buddy, death is not the look for me. Persephone, out." Or, Brick is a serial kidnapper of pretty flower girls, the Professor is on the warpath, Boomer is a mailman, Buttercup is forever a virgin, and Blossom is so done.—brick/blossom
1. i

**notes:** so i finally got off tumblr and stopped dancing around my room to the vaccines to actually write this up. aka the mythology!au no one asked me to write and i'm kindly forcing upon you all. by the way, this is kind of a modern thing. **  
dedication:** nope. **  
disclaimer:** to jordan. ily. you're probably the only person who cares about this, to be honest.

 **x**

{ **you, you enchant me; even when you're not around** }

 **x**

Her lashes brush her cheeks and the soft petals fallen from the tree onto her face. There's a constellation of freckles under her eyes and across her cheeks, and her lips are barely parted in sleep. Flowers of all kinds are woven into her long, auburn hair—forget-me-nots, baby's breath, primrose—and there's a small bouquet of daisies tucked loosely into her clasped hand. It rests in the grass next to her, while her other arm is draped across her stomach. Her dress is pink and perfect, revealing her shoulders and arms, her knees and legs. She's barefoot, like always, but her feet aren't dirty.

She's fallen asleep under the crabapple tree again, and the gentle breeze keeps stealing petals off the blossoms. It's a beautiful day, but it pales in comparison to her. She's lovely.

 **i.** _(_ _death wears a baseball cap and ratty old sneakers_ )

Aphrodite bursts through the doors, hair flying and wreath of roses resting on her head askew.

"I can't find Persephone!"

Artemis, startled by her friend's sudden entrance (and really, she should be used to them by now) misfires the arrow she'd drawn. It finds a home in Dionysus' rear end. He hollers. Loudly.

The Goddess of the Hunt lowers her bow and gives the blonde a questioning look. Dionysus is yelling profanities at her, but eh, he'll get over it. "What do you mean you can't find Blossom?"

Aphrodite—more commonly known as Bubbles among her close friends—tugs at her pigtails in distress. "She isn't anywhere, Buttercup! I've checked! She's not under her favorite crabapple tree, or in any of her gardens, or in the meadows, or—or—"

Buttercup places her hands on the girl's shoulders. "Hey, hey. Calm down. Tell me what happened."

Butch, known among his followers as the God of Pleasure, hobbles over to them. "Yeah blondie, spill it."

"Well," Bubbles sucks in a deep breath, "I went looking for Blossom because we were supposed to have dinner together tonight at that new Italian place, but when I got to the crabapple tree, she wasn't there. And she said that she was going to be there, so I thought, 'well, maybe she had to leave and go do something.' So I checked the rest of her favorite spots and even asked around but _nobody's_ seen her since this morning and and and—" she starts to cry, "—she's just _gone_!"

The two other immortals share a look, and Buttercup knows that she needs to calm the blonde down immediately or else they'll never get another word out of her. She shrugs the quiver off over her head and sets it next to her bow. Butch shifts uncomfortably as Bubbles sniffles, brushing away her tears and looking his way with a trembling lower lip. He's shit at comforting crying girls. _Especially_ immortal crying girls with a past penchant for cursing people who've pissed her off. That's a situation he never wants to find himself in.

"Okay," Buttercup tries, "did you look at her house? You know, that place in the woods where she lives with her dad? Sometimes she goes home to do…I don't know, whatever she does there. Or the mountain?"

Bubbles gives her a half-hearted glare, a bit hurt that Artemis would think she'd be dumb enough not to check those places as well. "Of course I have! She wasn't there. And I didn't say anything to Demeter because," she pauses, her expression turning horrified.

The other two get it without the rest of her explanation. They do.

"So where could she have gone? Blossom doesn't go _anywhere_ without at least telling someone first. I'm so worried. What if something happened to her?"

Butch rolls his eyes. "What could possibly happen to someone like her? She's immortal. It's not like she'll die."

Buttercup punches him so fast he doesn't even see it coming. She shakes her hand and sighs. "Was there anything different you noticed when you were looking for her? Anything off?"

The blonde's brows furrow and she taps her chin. "Now that you mention it, yeah. At the tree. There wasn't anything around except a bouquet. I thought she'd probably picked it, so I reached down to get it before I left, but there was something weird about it," she wrinkles her nose. "It felt…I don't know, this might sound crazy but, I got this _feeling._ It was cold and sent a shiver down my spine—you know, like when it gets all tingly? It felt kind of dreadful, and when I looked at the bouquet again, I noticed that it was dead."

She frowns. "The flowers were wilted, even though I could've sworn I saw her holding the exact same ones this morning. When Blossom picks flowers, they usually last longer than if you or I or anything mortal would. So it doesn't make any sense."

"And the air around the tree gave me the jeepers. It was unwelcoming and entirely unlike usual," Bubbles visibly deflates. "It made me all depressed. I felt like I was going to die."

Buttercup sneers at her words. Something had _definitely_ happened to Blossom. The question though, was _what_? She huffs, then snaps her fingers. "Alright, fine. We're calling that dumbass Hermes. He always seems to know about bullshit like this. It's fucking creepy, but sometimes useful. Do all mailmen know everyone's secrets?"

"Possibly," a chipper voice above them notes. "And who's the dumbass again? I'm pretty sure it's Dionysus here with an arrow sticking out of his."

Butch scowls up at the floating messenger and his bright grin. "Boomer, I'm gonna shove all those letters down your throat."

The mailman of the gods looks offended and clutches his mailbag brimming with envelopes closer to him. He even _looks_ like a mortal mail carrier, what with his baby blue postman's shirt and darker cap slapped on over his floppy blond hair. Most mailmen don't fly, however. Or hop between dimensions like a kid jumping in and out of the colorful chalk squares in hopscotch.

"I don't think so, arrowass. Anyway, you called?"

He looks expectantly at Buttercup.

She sighs. "Look, Bubbles here can't find Blossom anywhere apparently, and we were wondering if you'd seen or heard anything? You know so much shit about everybody, it's unbelievable."

"You think I _like_ this job?"

"Yes," the three of them chorus in unison.

Boomer sniffs. "Well. You call me here and insult me, then you tell me that you don't even have any messages to send. Whatever man. If it's a favor for Aphrodite, then I guess it's okay."

He rubs his chin and squints. "…Nope. Haven't picked up a thing. I saw Persephone yesterday though. She seemed just fine, y'know, growing plants and stuff."

Bubbles begins to cry again, throwing the messenger into a panic. He waves his hands around wildly, flailing and almost knocking Butch upside the head. "But I'll see if I can find something out! Don't cry Bubbles!"

He's gone in a poof of smoke, and Buttercup heaves another sigh. "We'd better try and find her too. Demeter'll blow his cap if something's happened to her."

She takes Bubbles under her arm and they turn to head off. Butch raises a finger. "I'm comin' too. But first, can someone get this arrow out of my ass?"

 **x**

Demeter slams his palms down on the table, and the sound echoes throughout the entire room. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY PRECIOUS DAUGHTER IS MISSING?"

Zeus—a short man resembling a monkey in the facial features department—laughs nervously. "Now John, do calm down. I am sure that your daughter is fine. She's probably just off in the fields. Persephone is okay. She's—"

"I'M REVOKING SPRING UNTIL SHE'S FOUND. PLANTING SEASON SHALL FAIL UNLESS SHE IS RETURNED TO ME. I'LL BRING THE HARVEST BACK WHEN I HAVE MY DAUGHTER BACK."

There are several audible gasps from around the room, and Butch mouths 'I fucking told you so' to Buttercup, who is slouched in her seat. Hera is, predictably, glaring daggers at Zeus from his seat, makeup flawless and sneer very prominent. Aphrodite is almost in tears, Athena is rubbing her temples, Hephaestus' head is on the table, Poseidon is chugging water like it's alcohol, and Hestia has put down her magazine on home improvement and cooking tips.

Frankly, Buttercup is amazed that Butch is even awake. He usually sleeps through these things, but apparently this is exciting for him.

To her, it's like one of the mortal things called soap operas. Everybody's screaming at each other, people are unhappy, there's normally at least one person who ends up almost dying (but not really). It's quite dysfunctional.

Zeus raises his hands. "Demeter, I understand your distress, but you must keep your composure—"

John points an accusing finger, and Butch leans forward in anticipation. " _Excuse me_? Who punishes beings for petty reasons again? And who kidnaps maidens? THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT."

That does it.

" _MY FAULT_? WHAT AN INSIPID NOTION. HOW IS YOUR DAUGHTER DISAPPEARING MY FAULT?"

"EVERYTHING IS ALWAYS YOUR FAULT."

Buttercup is _this_ close to losing it, just like everybody else. But thankfully, Hermes chooses to crash into the meeting room at the exact moment she's prepared to start shooting people.

His eyes are wide and he raises his hands—probably in a show of surrender, because everyone turns to glare at him.

Boomer takes a deep breath.

"I know where Persephone is."

 **x**

Blossom wakes up to the sound of something growling.

That's not right.

She's up in an instant, and immediately knows that something is off. The sun isn't shining down through the tree leaves anymore. In fact, there's no sunshine at all. Everything is dark and dreary, the entire world draped in navy and black and gray. She tries to grab handfuls of grass as she panics, but all she gets is dust.

And.

There is something monstrous snapping at her from the shadows. She can see its eyes, deep and dark and staring her down. How long has it been there? Did it watch her the whole time she was asleep? She scrambles back in the dust and screams when her hands clumsily drag over—are those human _bones_?

This isn't home.

This is—this is—

Hell.

Whatever is watching her begins to emerge from the shadows, and she thinks, _this is it. I am going to die. I'm going to die without even finding out how I got here._

She closes her eyes and clenches her fists, waiting to meet her untimely demise. And when something finally does tackle her, she topples over with a cut-off scream that echoes everywhere. The girl lays on the ground, very still, as something… _licks_ her?

Blossom cracks an eye open only to see a puppy sitting on her chest instead of a demonic monster crushing her very being. Granted, it has three heads, but it's cute. The dog pants and all three heads look down at her happily with identical, shining dark eyes. Cautiously, she lifts a hand and puts it on top of the middle one. Some of her fear vanishes when it wags its tail and barks cutely at her.

She laughs nervously sits up, taking the small dog in her arms and wondering how she could've thought it was a monster about to eat her. "You're not so frightening, are you boy?"

He nudges her with one of his heads and only taps his tail harder against her leg.

She glances around and almost jumps out of her skin at the sight of someone leaning against the wall. His hands are jammed into his pockets and she can make out very red, very intrusive eyes staring at her. Rude. Whoever it is slowly drags one foot out of the shadows and steps into the faint light. He's wearing ratty old sneakers, and it makes her think of her bare feet.

The dog in her arms perks up as the figure comes closer—red hair sticking out from under an old red baseball cap, a hoodie, jeans, and those ratty old sneakers again. She shivers as the coldness (does that feel like despair, too?) of the place seeps through her mostly sleeveless sundress and raises goosebumps on her bare arms and legs.

He stops at her feet, and the dog wags his tail happily. His master rolls his eyes in disgust. Blossom can finally see him well for the first time, and she doesn't know if she's ever seen anyone so handsome in her life. Mortal or immortal.

"Where…am I?"

He raises a brow at her hesitant tone and says, with some authority and much pretentiousness.

"You're in the Underworld."

—

 _tbc_

 **end notes:** i suck, this sucks. i think you get the point. basically the thought of brick as hades and blossom as persephone prompted this so.


	2. ii

**notes:** raises leg. i wrote most of this up on the road yesterday. twelve hour drives are awful. i would've had this up earlier but i got a book of adele music and guys, you don't even know how much fun it is to play 'rolling in the deep' on piano. it's magical. **  
** **dedication:** to the lovely reviewer _sg_. i considered making butch ares but i did not. that's a whole other story.  
 **ps.** mojo is zeus and him is hera. (ugly laughter.)  
 **pss.** brick's so-called 'chariot' is a motorcycle because he likes to think he's cool. also, this is the twenty-first century and honey, horses are hard to maintain when you're king of the dead. especially bone horses. apparently. what a loser. **  
**

**x**

{ **good things come to those who wait, but i ain't in a patient phase** }

 **x**

He's watched her here for a while now. With her autumn-kissed hair and rosy eyes, rosier cheeks. Her laughter is beautiful, a song in its own right, and her smile is the brightest thing he's ever seen. Oftentimes, he wonders if it's truly the sun.

She dances under this tree, small posy in hand, dress twirling and feet always bare. She reads here, books thick with knowledge and wisdom, some in dead languages that have long been forgotten by mere mortals. Her friends meet her under the shade—they share their tales, their plans. Occasionally, she'll lie in the grass and her lashes will flutter against her cheeks. She'll slumber under the tangling vines and gnarled branches, a sleeping beauty among thorns.

This is the time that he is closest to her, as sleep is the nearest thing to death.

She is _alive._

He is not.

 **ii.** _(the girl with bare feet and flowers in her hair)_

Zeus wrings his hands and paces the floor before the council. A screeching and heavily protesting Demeter had been physically escorted (read: _dragged_ ) from the room by a rather reluctant Dionysus, and so it's mostly quiet again. The silence is so loud that it's deafening, almost louder than John's enraged shouts. Hera is reclined in his chair, checking his nails, brows raised at the predicament before them.

Or rather, Zeus.

"Tell me again, messenger, are you quite sure of the whereabouts of the girl Persephone?"

Boomer frowns at the older man's tone and sighs. Predictable. "I'm sure. Blos—Persephone is currently in the Underworld. I saw her, man. She was sleeping, but I definitely saw her," he raises his hands. "Don't ask me how she got there, but she did."

Aphrodite is nervously twisting her pigtails and chewing her bottom lip. "But…but what does this mean? Bl—Persephone has no reason to be there, right? Isn't everything down there… _dead_?"

Her question goes unanswered as the head of Olympus groans. "There is no possibly way this could get any worse. How grievous, that such an unpleasant thing should happen on a day like today. What—"

"Mojo, dear," Hera begins sweetly, then his expression turns sour and his voice drops to a gruff growl, " _shut up and get to the point_."

Buttercup taps her fingers against the table as she watches Zeus pace. Something's obviously up with the old man; she hasn't seen him this worked up since Calypso kept Odysseus prisoner on her lonely person island for years. All she really needed was like fifteen cats and Netflix—maybe a trip to Vegas or something—but alas, instead she detained a shipwrecked hero for longer than any of them bargained for. That'd been thousands of years prior to this, though, so she knows that things are definitely off.

Zeus checks the room, probably to make sure a wild Demeter hasn't suddenly appeared, ready to strangle him with wheat or something. "Hades."

"What," Buttercup deadpans.

Athena, known as Sara to everyone aside from mortals and maybe the cyclops, gasps. "No. It can't be. Zeus, tell me it isn't so."

Bubbles' fidgeting has increased tenfold, and she seems to be on the verge of tears again. "H-Hades? But…but, I thought he never left the Underworld. He never comes to any meetings, or…or anything! How could he have taken Persephone?! No one's hardly even seen him!"

"Oh, that asshole can come topside, he just doesn't," Poseidon comments, tapping his trident. "We're probably better off with him _staying_ down under."

Sara is still earnestly looking to Zeus, hoping that what the others are saying doesn't matter, because that's not why Blossom is there. Surely it isn't. This is all just one big misunderstanding. Hermes must be mistaken. He's so busy all the time, maybe he just got his information mixed up.

Zeus takes a deep breath and places his palms on the table, his expression grave. "Ladies and gentlemen, it appears as if Hades has taken Persephone."

The meeting room (aka, Hera's favorite parlor slash entertaining room) doors burst open as Demeter flies as the shorter man, intent on trying to drown him in grain or something of that sort.

A short note: Father Nature is a bitch when he wants to be, and he'll come back to bite you in the ass like an unexpected cold snap if you cross him.

Butch theatrically runs in behind him, looking bent out of shape—probably because he is, out of shape that is, despite his seemingly flawless physique. "I tried to stop him," he declares, then comes to a stop beside Buttercup. The god of pleasure leans down and holds a hand up to his mouth. "Not really," he whispers, "it was gettin' real fuckin' boring out there, and that guy's pretty cool when he's not being so domestic and whatever the shit. And also…"

"Fatherly?" Buttercup offers.

He nods vigorously. "He just about blew a gasket when he heard about Hades magicking Daughter Dearest away," and, as an afterthought, he adds, "I mean, the guy's a dick, but he wouldn't hurt her. I think."

"This is technically your brother we're talking about here," Artemis deadpans as Hermes, Aphrodite, Hestia, and Athena try to pry Zeus and Demeter apart.

Butch sighs, and Buttercup regards him suspiciously. "Wait. How'd you two hear about Hades? Were you eavesdropping? You were, weren't you. Dammit, you asshole."

"I said it was boring out there!"

She squints at him. "Demeter threatened to let all the hops die, didn't he. I bet he also mentioned something about the corn crop for this year suddenly and mysteriously failing. All of it. You're so fucking predictable."

Dionysus practically wilts over her chair and drapes his arms around her. She immediately begins to try and push him off. "Sweetheart, you know me so well. It's scary."

"It's because you haven't changed in at least two thousand years," Buttercup says bluntly. "Now get the hell off me, you neanderthal. Or I'll shoot you in the ass again."

When the two turn back to look at the potential murder scene, Hera is pulling out his cell and waving it menacingly at Demeter. "Am I going to have to call the security titans?" he asks, voice high and feminine again. It's a bit ironic, to be honest, because usually the security titans are being called for _him._

Demeter reaches past Hermes and points threateningly at Zeus. "YOU WILL BRING MY DAUGHTER BACK, YOU OVERRATED LIGHTNING ROD, OR I WILL LET THIS YEAR'S HARVEST DIE. I SWEAR IT. AND DON'T THINK I AM NOT AWARE OF WHERE YOUR SECRET BANANA STASH IS. _I KNOW ALL._ _NOTHING IS SAFE._ "

Zeus snarls back at him while Hera screeches something about how all of this stress is bad for his health.

"This is turning into an episode of 48 Hours," Butch mutters. "Why don't we just get Bloss back ourselves?"

Buttercup slams her fist into her palm, a wild grin on her face. " _That's it._ Get ready, dick, we're going to storm the Underworld."

 **x**

"Excuse me?"

Blossom looks up at him with wide eyes, fingers loosely grasping at the ashes around her.

He leans down, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes narrowed. "The Underworld, babe. You've heard of it, right? The destitute place where all the dead go to spend eternity and beyond? Where hope does and agony reigns? You're in it."

She glances around the dreary place, fear pooling in her stomach and gripping her heart. For the first time, she takes notice of the agonizing moans and tortured groans echoing through the fog and darkness. But, hadn't she just fallen asleep under the crabapple tree earlier? She'd been alive then, right? Her heart skips a few beats.

Is she… _dead?_

Blossom grips her skirt and looks up at him in distress, the flowers weaved into her hair beginning to wilt. "But, how did I get here? I'm not—I mean, isn't this place— _I'm not dead_!"

She regards him suspiciously, eyes narrow and mouth drawn into a thin line. "Who are you? What am I doing here? Where's Aphrodite? I'm not dead, so how did I get here?"

He rolls his eyes and straightens, looking at her from the corner of his unsettling bloody eyes. Are they glowing in the dark? They appear to be glowing in the dark. "You are dead," he tells her, rather nonchalantly for this entire occasion, "at least while you're in the Underworld. As to _why_ you're here, and who I am, well…"

The girl waits a bit impatiently for him to finish, in somewhat of a state of shock at his statement that she's no longer among the living.

"I'm Hades, the king of this domain. And I brought you here."

Needless to say, not the best welcoming committee.

And never let it be said that Brick (cough Hades cough) has the best of timing, either. Because he does not.

" _What_?" Blossom chokes, scooting away from him. "You _brought me here_? You…you kidnapped me! This is unlawful entrapment! Take me back home _at once_ ," she shrills, tone positively venomous. "I'm reporting you to Zeus! To—to…"

He watches her closely, expression irritated. "No."

That does it. She scrambles to her feet and brings herself chest-to-chest with him. The redhead pushes herself up on her toes in and attempt to bring herself face to face with him, and pokes a finger into his chest. "Listen here, mister. I don't care who you think you are," she pauses, "…who you actually are, or what you think you're going to do with me. You have no right— _no right_ —to keep me here against my will! Goodbye, and good riddance to you! Now take me home!"

"Maybe if you stop screaming and ask nicely."

Blossom narrows her eyes and her bottom lip trembles in anger. " _Please._ Please take me home."

"No."

She grabs his hoodie and jerks him down to her level. "Then why did you even say— _ugh."_

The goddess of spring lets go of him and backs away, kicking up dust. She pulls her arms into her chest and glowers. "I don't want to be here. What do you even want with me?"

Hades looks at her, the girl who doesn't wish to be here at all, whose dress is covered in ash and dirty fingerprints. The flower crown atop her hair is dead now, all the pretty blossoms dry and shriveled. She acts like she's afraid of him, she might cry, or like she's going to throw a catastrophical _fit_ at any given second. Possibly all three.

He's never seen this side of her before. Usually it's just the prim goddess who gets onto her friends for their rowdy behavior, or who nurses sick plants back to health, or—

"As of the moment you entered this realm, you became its queen."

In all honesty, Brick expected her to take it better than she did.

" _WHAT?_ "

 **x**

Hades groans for the fifth time and lets his head hit the back of the door.

Why did he have to be so fucking stupid? This girl—this ridiculous, _infuriating_ flower girl who he'd _willingly_ brought into his home had been here for an hour, and already he was prepared to set something on fire. After screaming her head off for probably a good ten minutes, going on at him about this and that and how she'd hate him forever and blah blah blah, she'd locked herself in her room and had refused to come out.

And she's punched him. The girl is small and light but her right hook is fucking _brutal._

Brick closes his eyes and thinks that she's probably not worth it. He can just send her back and never have to worry about her or her pair of banshee lungs and iron fist ever again. It's what he _should_ do.

"Fuck, will you just _open the damn door already_?"

Her muffled and teary voice reaches his spot slumped against her door. " _Don't curse at me_!"

Of fucking course.

She's some kind of goody-two-shoes saint who doesn't have a swear in her vocabulary, either.

There is no possibly way on Olympus that they're ever going to get along. They'll kill each other. It's as simple as that. She's got to go.

"For the love of— _how many times do I have to fucking say it_?"

Blossom doesn't even look up from where she's buried her face in a pillow to reply. "I'm not coming out! You might as well just go back to whatever you were doing _before_ you decided kidnapping girls was a fantastic hobby!"

Brick thinks she's going to kill him.

Maybe she already has.

—

 _tbc_

 **end notes:** blossom might be a little out of touch with reality atm. i wasn't sure how to write her freaking out, so. she had a bit of a buttercup moment. also, guys, idk about you but i like to imagine brick's voice sounds like charlie hunnam's okay. judge not.


End file.
